Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
The announcer echoes over the speaker, and I shudder when I hear myself referred to as The Widow Maker. Who the fuck comes up with this shit? That’s gotta be the lamest name I’ve ever heard for a fighter, but I don’t have a chance to dwell on it as Cole pushes me out into the ring with my robe and all.
The crowd’s going nuts as they try to get a good look at the fresh blood, trying to gauge what kind of competition I’m going to be. Little do they know, this competition is mine. I’m just that good, and it’s not my ego talking. It’s straight-up facts.
Slowly pulling off my robe and doing a turn, I give the chicks a good show before tossing it to Cole, who snatches it out of the air with a smirk, knowing damn well what I’m doing. The chicks scream obscenities at me, giving detailed descriptions of exactly what they want me to do with my cock. Hell, I get shit like this right before a hockey game, but nothing on this level. This is insane.
I’m barely getting started on the Xander Show when I feel a familiar piercing stare that has my heart kicking into gear. There’s no fucking way. She couldn’t be here.
My gaze snaps up to the crowd, right to where I feel her stare. I find her instantly, those baby blues boring into me.
My heavy stare locks onto her, and I watch as her eyes widen, realizing exactly who stands before her in the ring. She gawks at me. Clearly I was the last person she’d expected to see here tonight, and I have to admit, I’m fucking shocked too. What the hell is Charli doing here? Sweet, innocent Charli at a place like this.
A strange need pulses through me to get out of the ring and rush up to her just so I can drag her ass out of this shithole and take her home. She doesn’t belong here. But what do I know? Apart from a two-second conversation weeks ago, I’ve never actually spoken to the girl. How would I know if she is an innocent, sweet girl? Hell, she works in a bar for fuck’s sake, and now she’s at an underground fight. Maybe she isn’t the kind of girl I thought she was. Maybe she’s the kind of girl I could bend over and . . . No. I need to concentrate.
Either way, she’s here now, and there’s no way I’m leaving this ring without my first win under my belt. The tension builds between us, so fucking thick it’s amazing no one else can sense it. The seconds seem to tick by, but I keep my eyes trained on hers. I’m more than ready to scale the side of the ring to get to her when some asshole drops his arm over her, leaning his whole body weight against her small frame and making her stumble forward. Anger fires through me, but I must admit, it’s satisfying as hell to watch the way she cringes in disgust and shoves the prick off.
The loser wobbles behind her, but she clearly doesn’t give a shit about the guy. A smirk comes ripping across my face, and I watch in amusement as the corners of her lips begin to rise.
Fuck, this chick is a little spitfire. How the hell could I have missed that?
One thing is for sure, I’ll be finding her after the fight.
The announcer starts to introduce my opponent, and I know it’s time to stop staring at Charli and get my head in the game. Hating the idea of looking away, I send a wink in her direction and grin as her face flames the same way it did that first night at Micky’s.
Turning away, I face the opposite side of the ring and watch as someone moves through the crowd, making his way toward the ring with his team at his side, just as mine had been.
My opponent is introduced as Hellraiser and I scoff at the pathetic excuse of a fight this is going to be. The guy is scrawny with barely any muscle mass. He looks like a fucking child, barely out of school. I have to be smart about this, though. He wouldn’t be here if he couldn’t fight, which means the guy must be fast. Jokes on him. I’ve never met an opponent faster than me.
My gaze settles on him, not looking away as I watch him peel out of his robe. He makes his way into the center of the ring, looking up at the crowd with both hands raised as if he’s already the undefeated champion. To me, he just looks like some asshole kid who needs to be put in his place.
After taking a slow walk around the blood-soaked ring, he focuses his attention on me and comes to a stop, sizing me up as though I’m nothing but an obstacle on his way to the top.